Black Shadow
by CLS
Summary: How did Sirius come by his motorcycle? Ever wonder about that?
1. Some Assembly Required

**Author's Note: **This story was written before OotP... before GoF, in fact. Now we know so much more about Sirius and his family. There are aspects of this story that now must be considered AU, yet I hope that you will still enjoy it. Whatever Sirius' background, there must have been a time when he realized that there are things worth fighting (and dying) for. And there must be a story as to how he got himself a large, black motorcycle!   
  
  


**Black Shadow**

_Part 1: Some Assembly Required_

Six weeks. Forty-one days. Sirius Black was just working out in his head how many hours forty-one days contained when he heard a door slam and the sound of running feet. He looked up to see Andie's long black braids flying wildly as she bounded toward him. She was the sort of ten-year old who never went anyplace without running.

"Mum says to come 'cause we're leaving." She stopped short and stood looking down at the jumble of parts spread on the grass around him.

"What's all this, then?" she puzzled.

"Parts," he sighed while collecting the various pieces he had been cleaning and tossing them into a box.

"Where do you get all this Muggle stuff?" she asked as she made a face and poked at a bit of metal with her toe. 

"I found this in a rubbish heap, if you must know," he replied shortly. The fact that he even bothered explaining it to her was a symptom of his enormous boredom. "I want to see if I can put it all back together."

"You building another Muggle machine? I hope it's more interesting than the last one that just burned bread. What was it called?"

"A toaster," he snapped as she giggled back at him. "This is going to be a scooter. Muggles use them for getting around from place to place."

"Oh. Does it fly or anything?"

"No." He scowled as he stood up. "It's got two wheels and a little engine-"

"Ooooh. What's that black stuff all over your hands?" Andie took a step back from him.

"Grease," said Sirius, grinning and advancing on her, "and it doesn't come off--" He raised his hands and lunged. "--without a special potion made under the light of the full moon." 

She shrieked, laughing, and pelted toward the back door of the house. Sirius dropped his arms and picked up a rag, laughing too as he wiped his hands.

Only a bit of grease remained under his fingernails when he entered the sitting room. His mother stood fussing with his sister's bag. Her normally neat brown hair seemed in disarray and her face held a worried look that she covered with a smile when she saw him.

"There you are," she sighed and shook her head with resignation. "Andie and I are off to Kent." 

"How long are you staying?"

"I'm not sure, dear," she replied looking about the room distractedly. "Aunt Bathilda is recovering slowly from that dreadful curse." She dropped her voice as Andie came bounding down the stairs. "She's lucky to be alive at all, you know."

Andie sat down cross-legged on the floor and began to paw through her bag as her mother clucked in consternation. "Mum," she whined, "Pinky's not here!"

"Did you look under your bed? In your closet?" her mother recited as if by rote. Before she could finish the long list of places, Andie jumped up, crying "Oh, yes, closet!" and vanished up the stairs again.

"Your father's just come home," said his mother, her green eyes regarding him in concern. "He's been up all night on some business for the Ministry. See that he gets something to eat, please." She looked down at his fingernails and rolled her eyes, then said, "You'll be in charge while we're gone. Working on the Curse-Breaking Squad is keeping your father very busy these days."

"If Dad's not going to be home much..." Sirius began hopefully. "I mean, there's not a lot for me to do here and James invited me to stay with them...."

"I know you wanted to spend more time with your friends this summer," she said as she picked bits of grass from his shirt and smoothed the fabric. "But we need you at home. And travel is, well, not a good idea just now."

"Yeah. Okay." Life didn't seem very fair. Each year he'd been at school, things got more unsettled, the power and influence of Lord Voldemort grew, but it touched him little while he was at Hogwarts. He hadn't noticed things getting a lot worse for the two weeks of summer holidays he just spent with Remus in Wales, but since coming home to Bickenham, news of curses and catastrophes appeared daily. If visiting James was out of the question, he supposed that he'd have plenty of time to work on that scooter. But it seemed like a poor second choice.

"Got him!" squealed Andie, braids floating high as she took the stairs two at a time. She clutched a faded pink stuffed animal. When at last Andie's bag was re-packed, his mother took some powder from a small dish on the mantlepiece and flung it into the fireplace, saying "You first, Andie, dear." Still clutching Pinky, Andie stepped in and vanished while making one last face at her brother.

"Take care of yourself, dear," said his mother and kissed him. Then she, too, was gone.

Sirius ran a hand through his hair, frowning as he sauntered toward the kitchen. He didn't really have a clue as to what she wanted him to do but at least he could fix breakfast. His father, a large man with broad shoulders and the same jet black hair as his children, sat at the kitchen table with his head resting in his hands.

"Dad," Sirius began tentatively. "Do you want something to eat?"

He heard a low rumbling sound which might have been a response.

"You okay?" Sirius faltered as his father looked up at him in confusion, a fleeting memory of terror in his eyes as if still seeing something very far away. Sirius looked on, fascinated and concerned, as recognition flooded back into his father's face and he attempted a smile.

"I'm as well as can be expected, son," he grinned darkly. "For not having slept in...I don't know how long really."

"Cup of tea, then?" Sirius asked, hurriedly moving toward the kettle on the counter. After pouring boiling water into the teapot, he got out bread and jam, his best attempt at breakfast.

"They're keeping you busy," he said, setting a plate and cup in front of his father. "I've hardly seen you since I got back from Wales."

"Visiting a school friend, were you?" mumbled his father, starting in on the bread.

Sirius nodded as he pulled a chair from the table and swung it around backwards, sitting astride the seat with his arms resting on the high back. His father seemed famished and Sirius wondered how long it had been since he had eaten.

"The Lupin boy, right?" his father inquired, then he paused and shook his head. "Such a terrible shame about his father."

Sirius looked at the floor, his chin propped on his arms. Lord Voldemort seemed to have had a hand in ruining everyone's summer. Every wizard family he knew was touched in some way. Still he did not see why it should keep him confined to Bickenham. He'd try again.

"Dad," he began as he looked up. "James -- James Potter -- invited me to stay with him for a few weeks, and I--"

With a grimly determined shake of the head, his father put an end to any hope Sirius had for the rest of the summer. "No," he said heavily, "Your mother and I have discussed this. We want you to stay close to home until it's time to go back to school."

Sirius scowled but said nothing. After polishing off the bread and draining the tea cup, his father sat back. His face, although still drawn and pale, relaxed slightly. He stroked his neat black beard thoughtfully and considered carefully what to say next.

"Lord Voldemort has stepped up his, um, recruiting efforts recently. He has given quite a lot of power to certain families, families that want to eliminate the pollution, as they see it, from wizards who are not pure blood. We've seen an alarming increase of attacks on Muggle-born wizards this summer. Ambitious men like Ravenstone and Malfoy are only too happy to do Voldemort's dirty work, though you won't find them admitting to it publicly. They want to win over some of the old wizarding families and terrorize Muggle-borns." He shook his head with evident frustration. "And it's working. We've had our hands full coping with all the curses but even more alarming are the disappearances." He halted and made a conscious effort to lighten his mood. "Your marks at school are good, Sirius, although they could be higher if you'd apply yourself. After you graduate next year, we could really use you at the Ministry."

"Yeah. Maybe," Sirius said, rising and pushing the chair back against the table. "You should get some sleep, Dad."

"You're right," he replied, standing and stretching, then he looked his son in the eye. "And what will you do?"

"I guess I'll work on putting that Muggle scooter together," Sirius replied, turning for the door. "I may go into the village and look for a part I need to fix it."

"Sirius." The tone in his father's voice halted him in his tracks. "If you go out, take your wand with you."

Sirius looked puzzled. Underage wizards weren't supposed to do magic or carry wands on school holidays. Not that he hadn't broken that rule a few times.

"I'm going to put a locking spell on the house while I sleep and..." His father searched for words, suddenly sounding much wearier. "I'd like you to be careful as well."

~~~~

Seeing the village with new eyes, Sirius ambled down High Street. Saturday morning usually brought out shoppers and today was no exception. In spite of overcast skies that threatened rain, the street and shops bubbled with parcel-laden adults and darting children, escaping their parents for as long as they could. Which of these people, he wondered, knew the name of Voldemort? Which of them was not who he seemed? You're far too paranoid, he told himself as he left High Street for a quieter side street. Nevertheless, he did have his wand tucked into his belt, concealed under his leather jacket.

Davy Hollerith, the only other person in Bickenham who went to Hogwarts, would probably be able to help him find the magneto cap he needed for the motor scooter. Davy's father operated the only garage in the small village and Muggle-born Davy was endlessly tinkering with machines. During holidays, Sirius often spent time with him, although they were not particular friends at school. Davy was a good enough sort of person, a bit timid perhaps. Anyway, he was a year behind Sirius and in another house at Hogwarts.

Hollerith's Garage, said the faded red letters of the sign above the open building, big enough to hold two Muggle cars. One was currently up on a lift when Sirius entered, although he could see no one working underneath it. The interior of the garage was poorly lit by a couple of bare bulbs hanging from the ceiling. These threw fantastic shadows of the car onto the wall, giving the appearance of a large beast lurking in the darker recesses of the garage. Sirius idly wondered what sort of enchantment would be needed to make the car float on its own, instead of resting patiently on the lift.

He saw no one at all inside the garage. Along one wall were wooden cabinets with many drawers, a few half open and filled with tools. A table contained more tools and assemblies of car parts. Some of these looked like little tiny mechanical creatures, just born, spawned perhaps from the larger car the way frogs spawn. Sirius was poking at one such creature, which he thought was really a carburetor, when he heard voices just outside.

"Now, Davy," said a gruff voice, "I want you to finish with that carburetor. After dinner I'll be wanting to put it back as soon as I finish with the--"

Into the garage came an older man, thickset and dressed in grease-stained coveralls, and a taller boy in similar coveralls, thin with sandy hair and freckles. The boy's long face split into a broad grin as Sirius turned to face them.

"Sirius! Good to see you. Where've you been?" Davy spluttered in obvious excitement. "Dad, this is Sirius Black."

Mr. Hollerith, considerably less excitable than his son, regarded Sirius carefully. "Black," he intoned after a moment, his eyes narrowing, "You from around here? I don't believe I know your father."

"They live over on Chesterton Road, Dad," Davy piped up. "Sirius has lived here all his life."

Sirius laughed and said easily, "We don't have a car, though. My father works in London, takes the train and all that."

In reply, Mr. Hollerith shrugged his shoulders and grunted, as if it were inconceivable that a family wouldn't own a car. He seemed to dismiss Sirius entirely as he moved to one of the open tool drawers and noisily searched for something. He turned sharply, however, as Davy said, "Sirius is at school with me."

"Well," he drawled, appraising Sirius anew. "Right. I remember you now. Always taking stuff apart with the boy on holidays." He took his tools in hand and moved toward the floating car, calling over his shoulder, "Davy's got a bit of work to do today. Mind you don't keep him from it."

Davy gave Sirius an exasperated look. Taking up a screwdriver, he adjusted something on the carburetor lying on the table. He picked it up, turning it over in his hands quickly, and then set it down, saying, "It's nearly finished, Dad. Can I show Sirius something out back?"

His father growled an answer which Davy took as 'yes', motioning Sirius to follow him out the door. As they walked along the outside of the garage, Sirius explained that he had just found a banged up scooter; the frame was crushed but the engine seemed in good order. He hoped to put the engine on a frame they salvaged the previous summer. The cap from the magneto looked cracked, however.

"Definitely cracked," Davy said after examining the part Sirius pulled out of his jacket pocket. "But I know I've got another around here somewhere. Oh! Wait till you see what I've-- a little Triumph that I'm-- I've had to re-wire it, but it's almost done--" Davy had a tendency to babble when excited. He stopped, however, as they rounded the corner of the garage. There on the grass stood his Triumph, a small silver motorcycle with wires sticking out of the frame like snakes escaping a dense metal maze. 

The Triumph did not hold Sirius' attention for long. A much larger black motorcycle rested against the back wall of the garage under an awning made of several canvas tarps strung together. Afterward, Sirius was never sure what it was about the first sight of that motorcycle that made him stop short, forgetting entirely about Davy's renewed chatter and his surroundings. Perhaps it was the strong impression of a wild animal, fierce and lustrously black, eyeing him disdainfully and whispering, 'Tame me, if you can.' 

He might have stared for quite a long time but for the rough voice that said, "Hey, now, lad. If you'll be staring at me bike much longer, I'll have to charge you for it."

Momentarily confused, Sirius looked around for the source of the deep rumble and saw the speaker sitting on a battered metal garden chair, paint cracked and peeling, with one elbow resting on a once-matching table and one leg propped up on a similar chair. Even seated, the man looked large. His heavy-set build threatened to overwhelm the flimsy chair. Deep-set eyes glittered up at Sirius from a ruddy face which had seen many years out of doors. His thick hair and beard were reddish in color, shot with white, and tangled like the hedge of thorns so often found guarding the castle in a fairy tale.

"This is my friend Sirius," Davy chirped. "He goes to my school."

"Ah. Does he, now?" The man's dark eyes drilled into Sirius.

"Sirius, this is my Uncle Mick, He's staying with us for a bit... recovering."

The man, Mick, rose slowly, grasping a cane and leaning heavily on it, prompting Sirius to notice that his left leg was sheathed in a smooth white cast from knee to toe.

"Summer hols in the country," Mick said with a grimace, "same as you'n. Know a bit about motorcycles, do you? Course you must if you're here with this lad." He jabbed his cane at Davy who grinned in response.

Sirius found his tongue again, fetched from a far-off land of fantasy. "Yeah. Davy's taught me most everything I know about engines. This is yours?" he asked, trying not to sound as excited as he felt.

With a snort, Mick hobbled toward the enormous, hulking machine, trailed by the two boys. "You won't find too many of these no more." Pointing to the sleek black metal with his cane, he continued. "Vincent put out this here motorcycle, the Black Shadow. Only twelve thousand of these was made, all hand-assembled. This beast is a 1952 Series C, the best ever. Got a one liter V-engine worked into the frame-" He outlined the engine with the tip of his cane. "--so she'll really fly."

"I know a bit about flying myself," Sirius remarked casually, squatting down to look at the engine. "Is this thing fast?"

"Fast? She was the fastest in her day and she's no slouch now, 'specially if you don't count those Japanese--" Mick gave a loud snort. "Why, 'fore me accident, we had her doing over 125 miles an hour. Needs a bit of work now, though, to get her doing that again, but I'll get this beast running by the time this thing comes off." He tapped his cast lightly with the cane, then continued, "It's stopping that's tricky on this beast. Her brakes have killed more'n one man."

"Where did you get this, Uncle Mick? You never said." Davy inquired as Sirius continued to stare at the beast, his thoughts a jumble of engines and flying and speed.

"Friend of mine from the docks," Mick replied slowly. "Worked with him nearly thirty years. Now he's - well, he don't need it no more." Mick broke off and hobbled to the table, weighted down by more than his broken leg. He settled heavily in the chair, muttering to himself.

"What's that, Uncle Mick?" Davy asked with concern.

"Don't mind me, lad." Mick shook his tangled mop of hair. Forcing a more cheerful tone to his voice, he said, "It's time you got that bike of your'n working. Tell you what, you boys go round to the Plough and bring me back a pint. Jack'll let you have it, if you say it's for me. I'll have them wires back in 'fore you get back." He took some coins out of his pocket and handed them to Davy.

"Sirius, lad," he called out. "Yer welcome to come back and stare at the Black Shadow. I'll not charge you."

~~~~

Outside the Plough and Stars, Davy held a paper sack, the mission having been successful. The little town common, dominated by an enormous copper beech that overspread the grass, benches and tiny bandstand, contained strolling shoppers and running children. How normal it all seemed, Sirius thought once again.

"Look," Davy said, a little excitement in his voice, "I think that's someone from school."

"Where?" Sirius broke out of his reverie.

"Under the tree, talking to someone, I think." Davy pointed toward the shadows underneath the beech tree to a girl with white blonde hair, bright against the dark trunk and leaves, who appeared to be alone now. 

"She does look familiar," Sirius pondered.

"That's Elise de Mornay." Davy blushed as he said her name. "She's in Ravenclaw, a sixth year like you."

Sirius narrowed his eyes, recognizing her as she turned and noticed them for the first time.

"She's really pretty," Davy stuttered slightly and colored more deeply. Sirius had never given her much thought, although Davy clearly had.

Sirius hadn't given much thought to girls in general, until recently. In his limited experience at school, girls either blushed and stammered a lot when he came near or threw themselves in his way. This interested him, although he had not yet met a girl who looked at him in the way that Lily looked at James. There was something between those two that he could not quite grasp, something he found himself longing for without knowing why. Was he in love with Lily or just with the way she looked at James? Best not to worry about it, he usually concluded. He was the first to admit that he didn't understand girls and he didn't really care to. Now, watching Elise saunter slowly towards them, he found himself wishing that she would look at him in that way.

"She left school before the term was out," Davy said. "I heard that she got sick or something."

"Well," Sirius murmured appreciatively, "she looks fine now."

Davy laughed nervously. Both boys fell silent as they watched her emerge from the shadows and cross the street. Her creamy blond hair, long and loose, swirled around her shoulders much the same way that her long skirt, a deep magenta, swirled about her hips and fell to her ankles. She had a heart-shaped face, accentuated by a widow's peak in her fair hair. In one hand she carried a brown shopping bag and in the other, a turquoise umbrella swung provocatively at her side. As she crossed the street, she fixed pale blue eyes on the boys. They were both staring at her and she knew it.

Drawing near, she addressed Sirius in a soft voice with a hint of marble underneath, "Well, Sirius Black, what a surprise to see you in this little..." She made a vague gesture with her head. "...village. I'm sure I didn't expect to meet any wizards at all when I came in this morning."

"Hello, Elise," Sirius replied coolly. Davy, tongue-tied, was content to let Sirius speak. "Weren't you just talking to someone under that tree?"

"What? No." She gave a sharp little laugh. "Men are always bothering me, it seems. I'm not supposed to talk to strangers, you know. I'll make an exception in your case, though."

Sirius laughed, too. He enjoyed challenges of all sorts. 

"We happen to live in this little village," he countered archly. Hastily he added, "This is Davy Hollerith."

Elise seemed not to recognize the other boy as she glanced in his direction briefly, taking in his grease-stained coveralls but making no comment. Instead she turned her attention back to Sirius.

"How _do_ you stand these long summer holidays in the _country_?" She made the last word sound like purgatory. "I'm utterly bored out of my mind."

"Visiting the neighborhood, are you?" Sirius asked.

"My grandparents have rented a house for the summer," she answered. "I've come to stay with them for four weeks. Fresh country air and all that. I can't wait to get back to the city where there are proper shops and ... things to do."

They stood in silence for a moment as it began to rain lightly. Davy, who grew increasingly uncomfortable, stammered, "I should be getting back now. I've got to give this to my uncle." He clutched the paper bag tightly, folding and refolding the edges. "And my dad wants me to...I've got some work to do, you know...."

"Sure," Sirius answered in an offhanded way. "I'll stop by later and see how your bike is coming along. Maybe you can help me put my engine back together."

Davy nodded wordlessly and, with a furtive glance toward Elise, scurried off down High Street. She seemed to dismiss him entirely, frowning as she noticed the rain. She handed her umbrella to Sirius, expecting him to open it for her, which he did. The rain fell harder and they both drew under the umbrella. 

"Doesn't look like the rain's going to let up. Do you want to go inside or something?" he asked with some reluctance. He didn't really mind sharing an umbrella with her.

"I have to wait for my cousin to pick me up," she replied looking up at him with pale, inviting eyes. "You don't mind waiting just a bit, do you?"

"No. Not at all." Trying to think of something to say, he asked, "Where is it you're staying?"

"A dreary little farm. Longstoke Farm, it's called." She rolled her eyes as she said this. Sirius merely nodded. Longstoke Farm, on the Newmarket Road, had been vacant for some time. Formerly a racing stable, it was supposed to have a large and elegant house.

"You must really be bored if you have to spend your time with Muggles," she continued, smiling up at Sirius with a conspiratorial expression.

"D'you mean Davy?" Sirius gave a small laugh. "His parents are Muggles, but he's a wizard like us. Didn't you recognize him? He's a fifth year--sixth I should say now--in Hufflepuff."

"Oh. Who could recognize anyone in those dreadful Muggle clothes? Although," she said, pitching her voice lower and running a finger down the front of his leather jacket, "this is quite nice." Sirius began to wish that it would keep raining all afternoon.

"Davy's a good sort," he said. "We both grew up here, although he didn't know he was a wizard until primary school."

"I don't pay much attention to Mudbloods," she sighed dismissively. She felt Sirius stiffen slightly and draw back. Hastily she said, "Mud- I mean - Muggle-borns are all right, I suppose, if there's no one else around."

Wishing to change the subject, Sirius asked, "I heard that you left school before the end of term. Were you sick?"

"You heard that I was... ill?" She paused for a beat, confusion evident beneath the silky words. She reached a hand up to push her hair behind one ear, continuing to smooth it as she talked. "Some family problems. That's all." Her voice trailed off as she dropped her hand and forgot to look at him, forgot where she was entirely, biting her lip and gazing past his shoulder. 

Rain fell on the pavement in a chaotic staccato. They stood alone on the street now, all the other shoppers having long since retreated to better shelter. She could have been made of marble except for the tiny drop of red glistening on her lower lip like the winter trace of a wounded animal staggering through the snow.

"I didn't," Sirius began, distracted by the look on her face. "I mean, Davy said something about it, but I...."

As if a frozen statue had come to life, her face colored again and she smiled. When she looked up at him, the glint in her blue eyes drove the former picture of anguish from his mind.

"Well," she drawled, forgetting his previous question and moving closer to him in the odd turquoise light of the umbrella. "You know, since I'm stuck in this prison for another few weeks, perhaps we can have a little fun. Anything to--" 

She broke off as a lemon-yellow Jaguar sailed into the village center, stopping across the street from them. Sirius saw a man with the same white blond hair, her cousin presumably, reach over and open the passenger's door with a sharp snap. A look of impatience was evident on the man's face through the curtain of rain.

She murmured something hurriedly as Sirius handed her the umbrella. Dodging puddles, she crossed to the car. She talked with the driver as she wrestled with the umbrella, turning back to look at Sirius once before getting inside. The man stared at Sirius as well, a cold stare which made him angry for no reason. He thought he heard his name as Elise and her cousin began to argue loudly, but the slamming of the door prevented him from hearing anything else. Elise gave him one last icy look as the Jaguar pulled away, disappearing through the murky drizzle like an enormous lemon drop melting in the rain.

He stood looking at the phantom of the car long after it was gone. What was the argument about, he wondered. Maybe Sirius Black wasn't good enough for Elise de Mornay. Perhaps he should be angry. Instead, he threw his head back and laughed as the rain continued to cascade around him.

Sirius wasn't laughing by the time he arrived home, however, out of breath and drenched. He collided with the front door, squeezing against it to find shelter under the narrow eaves of the house. The wet doorknob slipped through his fingers and wouldn't turn. He grabbed it with both hands and tugged hard several times before he remembered the locking spell on the house.

The sound of water pouring from the eaves and drumming at his feet mingled with the swelling sound of rain falling on pavement. Never, in all his memory, had the house in Bickenham been locked. He had not really believed his father's parting words. Now, as he pulled out his wand to undo the spell, possibilities seeped into his mind like the errant raindrops dripping down his neck and soaking his skin.

~~~~

Sirius and Davy spent the next week absorbed by engines as Sirius' scooter was coaxed into working. Mick often gave advice while he tinkered with his beast, as he called it. He told them fantastic stories about working on the docks, riding up and down Britain and through Europe, and more besides. Sirius, not being too familiar with the Muggle world or with Mick, didn't always know how much to believe and he scoffed more often than not, but enjoyed the tales anyway. 

His father continued to work long, irregular hours. Frequently, Sirius came back to find him at the kitchen table, surrounded by stacks of reports. He wouldn't discuss the reasons, but he seemed to be working from home, receiving reports by owl and pacing about the small house as if waiting for something.

On an unusually sunny afternoon, the two boys sat at the little table behind Hollerith's Garage talking about magic, instead of motorcycles. Sirius was polishing an apple on his shirt and thinking about the Black Shadow. A large book and Davy's partially written Potions essay, summer homework from Hogwarts, lay between them.

"What does Professor Leary expect?" Davy squirmed and pointed at the parchment. "I can't seem to come up with fifty uses for monkshood in potions!"

With a ferocious crunch, Sirius bit into the apple and pointed toward the book with the half-eaten fruit, saying, "Bit of a trick, really. Monkshood is also called aconite. Look that up."

Davy enthusiastically began searching the book as Sirius lazily finished the apple, his eyes straying toward the Black Shadow. He stood and casually tossed the apple core into a metal trash bin where it gave a satisfying thump against the side. He drifted toward the slumbering beast, lying in the shade under the makeshift awning, and laid his hands on the cool, black leather seat. He was so absorbed that he failed to notice Mick stumping heavily around the corner. Davy jumped up noisily and stuffed the essay into his book, closing it with a sharp clap, and then dropping it nervously on the ground.

"Mighty big book you got there, lad," Mick said, pointing to the Potions text with the tip of his cane. Davy looked confused and mumbled something incoherent while stooping over to pick it up. Sirius, now paying attention to something other than the motorcycle, suspected that Mick was teasing Davy, who hadn't figured that out.

"Yer dad wants to see you," Mick continued. "He needs you to run somethin' over to Mr. Tinker. Seems his truck broke down and he's carrying eggs or chickens --not quite sure which--an' he needs some part right away."

Davy's face brightened, his mind starting to work, and he bubbled excitedly, "I'll have to take my bike, then, if it's that much of a hurry." Mr. Hollerith didn't like Davy spending time riding his motorcycle; he considered it a complete waste of time. Any excuse for taking out the little Triumph was a victory in Davy's eyes. He shoved the book at Sirius, who grinned at him in response, and ran to the Triumph, pushing it along toward the garage and out of sight.

"Ah. He's a good lad," Mick ruminated amiably as he limped to one of the chairs, positioning the other with his cane so that he sat down on one and threw his broken leg up on the other. He looked up at Sirius, still clutching the Potions book, with narrowed, unreadable eyes. "And you'd be a wizard, too, eh?"

"Yes," replied Sirius warily.

"Surprised that a Muggle like me knows about the likes of you?" Mick chuckled. 

"I suppose... because of Davy that you would know something," Sirius answered. But he was surprised. Muggles weren't supposed to know that they were Muggles. As far as he could tell, the Ministry of Magic went to great trouble to keep it that way. He shifted his weight uncomfortably, the book still pressed against his chest.

"You have naught to fear, lad," Mick replied pleasantly enough, yet seemed to be holding something back.

"Afraid? I'm not--" Sirius hesitated. The conversation was taking a weird turn. He set the book down on the table, edge on, still gripping the top of it, saying, "It's just that the Min- I mean, we're supposed to protect Muggles from--"

"Protect?" Mick gave a great laugh which shook the table, sending the heavy book to the ground with a thump. Sirius didn't bother to pick it up. "Why I met me first wizard twenty years ago, down on the Thames, when a bloody great water demon come out of the river and attacked the poor fellow. I didn't know what it was, but I knew it meant to harm him, so I wrestled it back into the water. Alfie Crockford, that was the wizard's name. I been friends with him ever since."

"You have?" Sirius looked around for someplace to sit, finding a wooden crate and dragging it to the table. This was definitely the weirdest conversation he'd ever had.

"Sure," Mick answered with obvious amusement at creating so much confusion. "Me, Alfie an' Doris, she's Alfie's wife, we sit down for a drink at the Leaky Cauldron or they have me over t' tea sometimes." Sirius could think of nothing to say in reply but Mick continued on cheerfully. "When Davy got that fancy letter from yer school, Betty--my sister, she is--showed it to me and asked me what to do. Well, I asked Alfie and he told me it was the best school for wizards in England, a real honor to get asked an' all. I'm proud of that lad, although I don't suppose Betty and George knows what to make of him."

"He does okay in classes, I guess. And he's taught me a lot about Mug- machines and things. We're always scouring rubbish heaps for parts and trying to make them fit," Sirius laughed. " I'd give anything to work on something like that beast of yours. It's fantastic"

"Weren't always so, lad," Mick rumbled. "Me an' Rabbit found the beast in about the same condition as that scooter of your'n. Rabbit, he recognized it for what it was. Said we had to haul it home. I thought he was crazy, but after a year or so of scrounging parts from everyplace, we made her run again." Noticing the grin on Sirius face, he growled, "An' what's so funny, lad?"

"The name, I guess," mused Sirius. "My friends and I have some funny names for each other, too."

Mick stretched up a hand and wrapped thick fingers around a tangle of hair, tugging as if to release a stubborn memory. "His name was Henry. Can't say as I remember exactly why we called him Rabbit, 'cept he was always kind of small and nervous-like. But, he got me through some pretty tough spots." Mick fell silent, adrift in a far country where Sirius could not reach him.

"If you don't mind me--" Sirius faltered. Then, catapulted by some strange compulsion, he blurted out, "What happened to Rabbit?"

At first, he didn't think that Mick would answer. The older man got heavily to his feet, forgetting about his cane, and limped to the Black Shadow. He leaned on the handlebars for support, his back toward Sirius, for such a long time that he seemed to have forgotten the boy. Sirius stood at last, on the point of leaving and sure that he had made Mick angry, when he heard the deep voice answering in a raspy whisper.

"I miss Rabbit somethin' awful." He turned to look at Sirius and something in his expression drew the boy toward him. 

"Me an' him worked the docks." Mick looked back down at the Black Shadow as Sirius approached. "He weren't strong nor particularly smart neither, but he could always make you laugh and he put in an honest day's work. Down there--London, I mean--we got unions, but it's always some gang what really calls the shots. Rabbit, he didn't like what they was doing, putting their own blokes in charge of crews and skimming money off jobs by working light, working with too few men. He complained to the union 'cause he was sure someone was going to get hurt by it, but they done nothing." He shook his head, anger and disgust rippling down his neck and shoulders.

"I told him--I told him to lay off. They was out to get him and I couldn't watch his back all the time, but Rabbit, he wouldn't--couldn't maybe--stop speakin' out." Mick gave a great shudder that took his tongue away. The beast creaked as he rocked it back and forth obsessively.

Sirius, still gripped by the craving to know although fearing what he might hear, spoke for him, slowly putting the pieces together. "The gang ... found Rabbit ... and--"

"He's dead," cried Mick in anguish, shoving the motorcycle hard against the garage wall, sending shudders through the wood. "I couldn't save him! He was a better man 'n me and my friend--" His frame exploded in great, heaving sobs. "And I couldn't save him."

Heavy, summer silence fell, broken only by Mick's ragged breathing. Sirius couldn't move or think of anything to say. Slowly, a tide went out somewhere inside Mick. He turned abruptly and dragged his broken leg to the table, the chair groaning in protest as he sat.

"So, me best friend's gone, I got this lovely thing," he growled and thumped his cast. "An' a summer holiday in the country." As Sirius came back to the table and silently took a seat on the crate, Mick asked him with forced and painful cheerfulness, "You think I should go back, Sirius lad, to that bloody mess on the docks or take the beast and run for it?"

"I think you will go back," Sirius stated quietly, looking at Mick's face for the first time in what seemed like ages.

"Would _you_ do it, lad?" Mick eyed him suspiciously.

"Yes. Yes, I would," he responded without pause, although he didn't know until that instant what he might answer.

"Well, then," Mick fussed while reaching down to pick up his cane. "You'd be right. If nothin' else, I want to spit in their faces. 'Though," he said with a wink," I'm going t' watch me back a bit better from now on."

The distant sound of a motorcycle engine drawing near washed away any lingering tension in the air.

"Tell you what." Mick brightened. "You and Davy can have a bit of a go on the beast, if--" He wagged a finger at the explosion of excitement on Sirius' face. "--you have a care to not wreck her."

Soon, although not soon enough for Sirius, Davy came around the corner of the garage, pushing the little Triumph. He started talking excitedly before Sirius could even begin and before he got his helmet off. Sirius missed the first part of what he said as Davy shook his sweaty hair out of the helmet.

"...I was going down High Street," he tripped over his words in a rush. "And she was--she talked to me--remembered my name and--showed her the bike--"

"Davy, what on earth are you talking about?" Sirius asked irritably, eager to move on to more important things.

"Elise. I saw her and she talked to me," he stammered, his face flushed and his hair plastered on with sweat. "Said she might even like a ride on my--"

"Forget about her. She's not worth your time," Sirius cut him off, thinking that Elise must have grown even more bored during the last week. Davy's face fell and lost some of its high color.

"Mick says he'll let us take a spin on the Black Shadow. You can go first." Sirius jumped up excitedly. Davy, too, caught his enthusiasm. 

Davy's trial run on the Black Shadow, to the end of the lane and back, was a mixed success. Being on the timid side probably saved him from serious injury. Mick had warned him that the brakes were a bit touchy. On his return, he almost pitched over the handlebars as Sirius grabbed them to bring the beast to a halt. Still, Davy's face filled with unrestrained joy as he jumped off. He continued to babble incoherently as he took off his helmet and handed it to Sirius. 

"Now, lad," Mick limped over and addressed Sirius, "I got a feeling yer going to want to go further than the end o' the lane." Sirius swung his leg over the seat and ran his hands over the controls on the handlebars. "Remember that this beast has an engine four times bigger than that little bike of Davy's. She don't corner well, she don't stop well, and she don't take bumps well. She's faster than anything, and they don't call her a man-killer for no good reason. You listenin' to me, lad?"

"Yeah," Sirius replied in a distracted voice which didn't convince Mick.

"Where's the kickstarter, then?" Mick barked at him.

"Um." Sirius looked down hurriedly at his feet.

"Here." Mick pointed to the right side of the bike, shaking his head. "I hear wizards got magic for healing broken bones. You might need it. Start her up, then, lad."

Watching and listening to Davy ride the Black Shadow did not prepare Sirius for the deep, throbbing rumble that rolled through his body when he started the engine. He thought of the machine as a beast in some abstract sense until now. As he rolled out into the lane, he knew it was alive underneath him, purring with an edge of menace. He also knew that only one of them was going to win.

He kept the speed low on the dirt lane. Sirius actually had been listening to Mick say that the bike didn't take corners or bumps well. He thought that he had gotten the feel of her by the time he made the shift onto paved road, flying for a bit and then landing with a bone-jarring impact. He laughed nervously and almost had the wind knocked out of him. The engine whined as he shifted into higher gear and let out the throttle, too intoxicated to look at the speed. Fast was enough for him. 

The engine throbbed, reverberating up through his hands and feet, nothing like the smooth ride of a broomstick in which the wind might buffet you from the outside, but you and the broomstick were a calm, almost fluid, core. He and the beast were anything but calm as they battled through the still air, creating a hurricane as they went. It felt like riding an enormous black panther. 

He crouched low, finding the right position to reduce the drag and cut down on the howling wind. As he merged onto the Fen Road, he decided to make for the Little Thumping roundabout, about a mile up ahead, just to see how she took curves. Almost too late, he remembered the enormous pothole coming up; it was village lore that it could not be fixed and swallowed entire cars. Unable to dodge it in time, he and the beast left the ground and soared over the chasm. He looked down to see their combined shadow, not that of a boy or a motorcycle but of some fantastic flying creature swooping toward ground. This time he prepared for the backlash, shifting his arms and legs with the beast when her suspension groaned and popped as they met the road. 

More confident now, he twisted back the throttle. The road ran straight until the roundabout and there were no cars in sight. He backed off on the throttle as they approached the entrance, leaning to the left as he came to the circle of road. He fought the Black Shadow for control; she wanted to fling them out onto the grassy verge but he wouldn't let her. He whooped with joy as he completed several circuits of the roundabout. Then a car entered and Sirius reluctantly thought about returning.

He straightened up as they got back onto the Fen Road. He meant to avoid the pothole, but suddenly a truck was coming at him with the same thought. He swerved, leaning left. The beast seized the opportunity and they slid across the road, out of control, as the truck honked angrily. He let go, not wanting to be pinned underneath the motorcycle, and continued to skid over the pavement and into a ditch.

He lay stunned for a time; whether it was one minute or ten, he couldn't tell. The sound of Davy's little Triumph roused him to roll over and prop himself up on his elbows. Davy jumped off his motorcycle and cried out when he saw the Black Shadow--miraculously she did not seem to be harmed--lying on her side, an angry and indignant black beast. Sirius watched him wrestle with the beast, sure that he could not right her by himself. 

She thinks she's won, he thought as he forced himself to rise. Pain shot down his left leg where a long, red streak extended from hip to knee. Davy looked up at the sound of movement, his tense face flooded with relief. Sirius wasn't certain he could take a step yet, so he stood with hands on hips and eyed the beast, looking like a long and bulky shadow splashed across the road.

She thinks she's won, he chuckled inwardly, but I'm the first one to get up. Suddenly this seemed the most hilarious thing in the entire universe. Davy's face knotted in concern as Sirius began to howl hysterically. He ran to Sirius who limped painfully, though still laughing, toward the hulk, brushing aside any attempt to help him walk. 

The motorcycle lay sprawled on the pavement at his feet. Afterward, Sirius would always think of her as the Shadow, his Shadow. When they got her upright, he convinced Davy, with much argument, to get back on his own Triumph and start home for the garage.

Sirius stood for a moment, one hand on the seat and one on the handlebar, looking over the motorcycle: I've won and you know it. He winced, stifling a cry of pain, as he swung his leg over the bike. Luckily for him, the kickstarter was on the right-hand side. She started up on the second try, the thrum of her engine speaking to him in a new way. Now we'll fly, my Shadow, he thought.

_End of Part 1_

_In case you don't know what a roundabout (or rotary) is, it's a place where a lot of roads come together and cause confusion, formerly used to drive cows to market, now used to drive Muggles crazy._

_The Black Shadow is a real bike. More information about her can be found at  or . Thanks again to Dave, motorcycle expert supreme, who gave a kickstart to Sirius' first ride._

_Revised 5 March 2004: more tinkering...I think it's better...you be the judge of that._

_~ CLS_


	2. Road Test

**BLACK SHADOW**

_Part 2: Road Test_

His leg was on fire, but his mind was a million miles away. Sirius was never certain how he got home after that first wild ride on the Shadow. At some point he found himself at the front door. Had he been standing there long? His watch told him barely forty minutes had passed since he first mounted the beast. The fiery throbbing in his left leg gave a more painful reminder of what happened after that.

The house was locked, which meant that his father was either sleeping or out. He got out his wand with great effort; pain beat against his consciousness like waves pounding a shipwreck. It took several tries to undo the spell and he swore loudly throughout--better than crying, after all. At last, he released the spell and staggered into the house, closing the door roughly behind him.

His mind cleared and the pain receded slightly as he stood in the comfortable sitting room, leaning on a high-backed chair for support. Looking around, he felt oddly out of place. The objects in the room were all familiar: the lampshade with the drawing of a butterfly from three-year old Sirius, the sofa where he'd gotten his first kiss from Cousin Cassie, the ghastly flowered curtains made by his grandmother. Perhaps it was him. Perhaps he wasn't the same person who'd left the house a few hours before. Gingerly, he ran his fingers over the bandage that Davy had insisted upon, crudely wrapped around his leg and over his tattered trousers. Red blotches of blood blossomed through the white gauze, trailing down his thigh like raindrops splattered on a sidewalk. The Shadow had certainly left her mark on him. Would he ever be the same again?

You'll be a good deal better off after you treat that wound, he told himself. Get yourself upstairs. With a grim shake of the head, Sirius forced himself to move, hobbling toward the staircase. On the way, he glanced into the kitchen but saw no sign of his father except for the wealth of papers spread out on the kitchen table. He pulled himself up the stairs, gripping the banister for support, and made his way as quietly as he could down the hall to his parents' bedroom. It was empty. He was alone.

This discovery let loose a howl of pent-up pain that forced him back against the wall. He closed his eyes and tried to stop shaking. After a moment he was able to stagger to the bathroom, one hand on the wall for support. He clung to the door frame briefly and then lurched to the sink, leaning heavily on it to keep from falling. His hoarse, ragged breathing filled the small room. The white stillness of the bathroom--tile floor, porcelain sink and toilet, claw-footed bathtub--put him in mind of an infirmary. A breeze from the open window rippled the white gauzy curtains, so pure and untouched, unlike the soiled and ragged gauze around his leg. 

Getting home and up the stairs had taken all his strength. Now he bowed his head over the sink and willed himself to go on. He managed to raise his head and was startled by the sight of his face in the mirror, deathly pale and smudged with dirt, and his coal-black hair, normally fairly neat, was tangled and spiky. He looked like a textbook picture of a vampire, perhaps worse since vampires were usually obsessively neat about their appearance. 

With great care, he laid his wand on the sink. Miraculously, it had been unharmed in the crash, tucked against his back as he slid across the road and protected by his jacket. Now he noticed that the left sleeve--once silky smooth black leather--was nearly shredded. The jacket as a whole looked as if it had been plunged into a muddy ditch, which it had been, of course. He loved this jacket, having gotten it last summer at the Golden Zipper, a shop in Diagon Alley specializing in vintage Muggle clothing. At least it had not given up without a fight and had saved his arm from the same fate as his leg; for that he was grateful. Slowly, since he ached just about everywhere, he stripped off the jacket and shirt. Ugly black bruises blossomed on his left shoulder. Trousers next, he thought with a sigh, then realized that he'd have to get his boots off somehow first.

Carefully he lowered himself to the floor, keeping his injured leg as straight as he could. Even so, the pain caused him to cry out more than once. He managed to get his right boot off, but any movement of his left leg drove spikes of pain up through his spine. How was he going to manage this? Lying back on his elbows, he hooked his left boot under the clawed foot of the bathtub. He tugged, feeling ridiculous. Here he was, lying on the bathroom floor looking like a corpse trying to get its boot off. What would he say if his father appeared in the doorway now? The thought was so funny that he couldn't stop himself from laughing, even when the boot finally did come off. The sudden jerk caused his head to knock against the base of the toilet, which sobered him slightly. Maybe he shouldn't be laughing. It was probably a sign of shock. After a moment, he recovered enough to raise himself by tightly clenching the rim of the bathtub and then, balanced uncertainly on the toilet.

Now, he just had to get at the wound and fix it. I should be able to heal this, he thought. After all, we studied this in Charms class last year. The theory, at least. They hadn't actually practiced on living creatures but he felt confident he could master the art, although he never dreamed he'd be the first subject.

As he began to unwrap the bandage, he winced at the sight of the mottled red abrasion, growing longer with each turn of the gauze. He let the bloody bandage fall to the floor. The angry wound, about an inch wide and eighteen inches long, glared at him like lava oozing through a rent in the earth. The sight left him feeling faint, so he grimly focused only on the task of stripping off his trousers and then cleaning it, picking out the bits of thread and gravel. Unfortunately, he hadn't learnt any way to do this by magic.

At last, he was ready. He reached for his wand, hoping he would be able to apply all that theory from class before he passed out. He pointed the wand with only a slight tremor and spoke the words of the spell through clenched teeth. When it was done, he let the wand fall to the floor with a clatter. He closed his eyes and grabbed the edge of the bathtub for support. Waves of something--non-pain, perhaps--rippled down his leg, as when silence begins to win out over an ear-splitting noise that persists in echo and then vanishes. 

He had done it! He sat for many minutes, relishing the newly won freedom from pain. Cautiously he felt the side of his leg. Mostly done it, he concluded as his fingers traced the long, sinuous line of a scar. Opening his eyes, he saw the faint line, not angry-looking any more but part of him forever, the Shadow's mark.

He stood and grinned at himself in the mirror while running water into the sink. I should have paid more attention in class, he mused. He washed his face and made an attempt to tame his wild hair. Anything more would have to wait because he began to realize how hungry he felt. At least he didn't look like a vampire any more, a tremendous improvement.

Sirius left the bathroom in considerably less pain than when he entered, although without the leg wound to pull at his consciousness, he now felt as if every muscle in his body were aching and bruised. After he dressed in his room, he was very tempted to lie down--sleep called to him seductively--but he knew he should see whether his father had come back and find something to eat.

Late afternoon sunlight poked into the kitchen, splashing the table and counters with buttery squares of light. Sirius assembled an enormous tongue and tomato sandwich while snacking on pickled pumpkin rind. He filled a bowl with some of his mother's self-cooking soup. Before she went to his Aunt's house, she made gallons of it, which had seemed excessive, although now he was glad. Because he was too tired to stand while eating, he decided to clear the papers from the table. As he stood munching his pumpkin pickle and trying to decide how to rearrange all the stacks of paper, his attention wandered to an unfinished report sitting in the center of the mess. His father must have been working on it before he left on whatever errand had taken him out of the house. His bold and precise script was recognizable. Something caught Sirius' eye, a familiar name. What was it doing in his father's report to the Ministry?

"Numerous members of the Malfoy family have been observed entering and leaving Longstoke Farm," read the report, "which was rented under the name of Sanders, according to information received from a London estate agent. Since attacks on Muggle-born wizards have increased locally in the past two weeks, the activities at Longstoke Farm may be connected with other, similar incidents throughout the county that have been attributed to partisans of Lord Voldemort. Continued surveillance of Longstoke Farm is therefore recommended."

He crossed his arms and leaned one hip against the counter, supper momentarily forgotten. He thought he knew who Elise's grandparents were now. That cousin of hers had looked vaguely familiar, too. Sirius remembered a Malfoy who had been up at school when he first got to Hogwarts. Lucius, maybe. He wasn't sure because there was usually some Malfoy at Hogwarts, but always in Slytherin house. Sirius tried to stay clear of Slytherins. That was why he hadn't connected Elise with the Malfoys, he realized, because she was in Ravenclaw. Even so, she was probably trouble and he didn't need that kind of trouble.

Hunger won out, forcing him out of his reverie. He straightened up and remembered his supper waiting on the counter. With his wand, he coaxed the plate and bowl to float into the sitting room and hover near the sofa. There he stretched out, knowing his mother would not approve, and attacked his soup and sandwich. His mind kept returning to the afternoon's events, feeling again the bone-jarring excitement of riding the Shadow, replaying the spill onto the pavement. How could he have avoided it? How could he have controlled her? Thinking of that pothole reminded him of surging over it for the first time and of the intoxicating feeling of flying. With the right enchantment, the Shadow might really fly. Now _that_ would be cool. Could he do it? Sirius had messed about with charming smaller Muggle objects, but nothing so complicated as a motorcycle. Sleep crept over him, pushing away even thoughts of the Shadow. He would think about it another time, when he wasn't so tired. He lay on the sofa, supper eaten and the empty plate resting on his chest. As he drifted off, he saw the image of Davy's face lighting up at the thought of a ride on the Black Shadow. 

Voices woke him. From the kitchen, he heard his father talking with someone. Fuzzily he looked at his watch. He had dozed for only ten or fifteen minutes, but felt the bewildering disorientation of being woken suddenly from a deep sleep. Slowly, the sense of the words being spoken burrowed into his brain.

"The evidence is all here," his father was saying with a note of irritation in his voice. "I was going to submit my report tomorrow, but that may be too late." Sirius heard the sound of papers shuffling. "Here. Look at these photographs."

"Quite right," said the other man. "Severian Malfoy and his son Lucius. We haven't heard much from this crowd over the summer. I suppose it's possible they've been lying low out here."

"Of course they have," responded his father sharply. "What's more, I've documented a pattern of activity connected with the attacks at Newmarket and Peterborough."

"Look, Aeneas," the other man sighed, "your job is curse-breaking. Aren't you going out on a limb with all this spying?"

Sirius, fully awake now, shifted slightly so he could hear better. The plate which had been on his chest bounced onto the rug with a dull thud. He winced, hoping they hadn't noticed from the kitchen. He was becoming very interested in this conversation and knew he probably wasn't supposed to be listening.

"My job!" His father exploded with frustration. Sirius could feel his rage, even hidden on the sofa. "My job is cleaning up messes and I can't say that I enjoy it! Were you there at Peterborough? One person dead and five people with curses so bad we had to send them to London. We still haven't found Harlan Eckbreth. I'm not sure we ever will, not in any recognizable form, that is. I'm trying to prevent this from happening again. That's why I'm asking for help from the Aurors."

"Hmmm," replied the other. "And you think another attack is in the works?"

"I've laid it all out," his father replied and there came the sound of more papers being shuffled. "Take a look at this."

Silence fell as the other man read whatever Sirius' father had given him. Sirius tried to make sense of it all, tried to imagine the horrors his father must face. How could wizards do this to one another? He knew lots of Muggle-born wizards. They weren't any different. Davy, for example, was a decent enough fellow. Sirius shifted uncomfortably. Thinking about Davy reminded him of something... something connected with this business. Elise, he thought with a start. Davy had met her in the village this afternoon. And what else? What had Davy said about her? Sirius paid little attention to his babble at the time. He had thought that Elise must be bored to bother with Davy. Was there more to it? He felt foolish suddenly for thinking such sinister thoughts. Anyway, he _had_ tried to warn Davy about her, hadn't he? He couldn't exactly remember what he said; the eagerness for that motorcycle ride had blurred his memory. Voices from the kitchen interrupted, crashing through his muddled thoughts.

"Some of us have suspected the Malfoys," the other man began cautiously, "but nothing has ever been proven and they have, er, the ear of some powerful people in the Ministry. What you've got here is ... persuasive." Sirius could imagine his father tensely waiting, wound up like a coiled spring, in the silence which followed.

"I could," the man continued, "take this to the head of department. He might listen. I'll send an owl tomorrow."

"No!" answered Sirius' father harshly. "Can't we talk to him tonight? Florian, lives are at risk if we delay."

"Very well, Aeneas," the man sighed heavily. "If you're wrong about this, though, I'm going to look like a fool."

"You won't regret this," came the excited reply, the voice drawing nearer. "I'll just get my cloak and we can be off." As his father breezed past the back of the sofa on his way to the coat hooks, Sirius sat up suddenly.

"Dad," he whispered urgently.

"Sirius!" His father stopped short, regarding him with surprise.

"Something wrong?" the other called from the kitchen. Sirius could now see a short, powerfully built man who looked vaguely familiar.

"No, Florian," his father replied, keeping his voice calm but glaring furiously at his son. "It's just my son. He's been sleeping." He emphasized that last word heavily.

"I just woke up," Sirius called. Pitching his voice lower, he spoke only for his father's ears. "Dad, I need to ask you something."

"Not now, Sirius," whispered his father roughly. "I'm in a bit of a hurry. Surely it can wait."

"I read your report." That got his father's attention. "Someone from my school, who lives in the village, he's ... Muggle-born and I want to know if--if he's in any danger."

"What's his name?" asked his father. Sirius told him and his father nodded thoughtfully, then replied, "There aren't many wizard families in the village. He should be safe for now, although I don't recommend that you tell anyone he's from a Muggle family." Shaking his head with a sigh, he turned to go. "I'll be happiest when you're both back at Hogwarts." 

"Dad," Sirius said haltingly. "One more thing?" He received a dark scowl in reply but continued quickly, "A girl I know from school, her name's Elise de Mornay, she's staying our there, at Longstoke Farm. I saw her in the village this week and--"

"Sirius, I don't have time for your problems with girls," his father interrupted. "Stay away from this girl and from Longstoke Farm." With a swirl of his cloak, he strode back to the kitchen. He exchanged a few quick words with the other man and both vanished, leaving Sirius alone on the sofa, his mind filled with a cacophony of confused thoughts. He cradled his head in his hands, elbows pressed painfully into his knees. Of course he shouldn't go around broadcasting the fact that Davy was Muggle-born. But he had. He told Elise. How could he have been so stupid? She'd made it clear that she didn't care for Muggles or for Muggle-born wizards. 

Sirius stood and paced restlessly from the sitting room to the kitchen, coming back to the question of why she had bothered to talk with Davy today. A possible answer to this riddle occurred to him. Now, in the empty and silent house, the answer seemed once again too fantastic. First thing tomorrow, he resolved, I'll go over there. Still he paced uncomfortably, realizing that he wouldn't rest until he had seen Davy, and given him a proper warning. He found his hand on the knob of the back door. He might as well use the fastest way to get to Davy's house. Although it would involve breaking more rules than usual, it would be more fun. He hurried out the door, rapidly performing the locking spell while his mind raced ahead. 

Once outside in the long, late afternoon shadows, Sirius stopped and cleared his mind enough to perform a much more difficult enchantment, made harder by the dull, throbbing aches spilling from every muscle. He closed his eyes, reached out with his mind in precisely the right way, and vanished. 

There, in the small yard, stood an enormous dog, black coat glistening in the dappled light and large eyes darting about. As Padfoot, his senses were always subtly altered, hearing and smell expanded somehow. He knew, for example, that the neighbors had recently killed a chicken and that two dogs and a cat had passed through the yard. In fact, the same cat peeked out from under a bush, eyes widening in surprise. Padfoot growled at the sight of the cat, who hissed at him in return. No time for chasing cats, he told himself as he bounded over a hedge, leaving behind a very surprised cat.

Cutting through the fields south of the village and then looping around was the shortest route back to Hollerith's. Padfoot could also run faster over open ground than Sirius could manage with two legs. And so he ran. For a time, the feeling of raw power surging through his legs drove all other thoughts from his mind. He bounded across hay fields, jumped ditches, and leaped over hedges, slowing only as he approached the outskirts of the village.

He became more cautious as he entered the lane leading to the garage. He hadn't actually considered what to do when he arrived in the form of a large black dog. Previous experience taught him that neither Muggles nor wizards reacted favorably to Padfoot, although for different reasons. Certainly no one must connect Sirius with this particular beast. The best course, he decided, would be to take a pass behind the garage first, see if Davy were there, and then find a private spot to transform.

There was no one behind the garage nor was Davy's Triumph anywhere to be seen. He stopped abruptly, casting about frantically for the little silver motorcycle. The larger Black Shadow glared at the intruder in her territory and he, without thinking, growled in return. His keen ears heard footsteps approaching. He transformed swiftly just as Mick stumped around the corner of the garage looking puzzled and angry.

"What the devil--" he began gruffly, then noticed Sirius. "Lad, you gave me a start! Did you see a bloody great dog run by?"

"Just got here," Sirius gasped, still a bit winded from running.

"We was just sittin' down to supper when I saw this black monster of a dog come runnin' down the lane and 'round the garage." Mick eyed Sirius suspiciously. "Dunno why but I had a feeling the bloody beast was up to no good." He paused, frowning at a recollection, then continued, "Guess it put me in mind of somethin' Alfie told me about once, called the Grim, it was."

"Oh, no," replied Sirius quickly. "Probably just a stray. We have lots of strays around here."

Mick grunted, not convinced. "An' what in the hell are you doin' back here, lad?" he growled. "I'd ha' thought you'd be wanting a bit of time to recover from that tumble you took today."

"I came to--I need to speak to Davy. Is he around?"

"Late for supper is what he is and his mother's none too pleased," Mick answered as he limped closer to the boy, peering at the evident confusion blossoming on his face. "Somethin' wrong, is there?"

"Where is he?" Sirius demanded, afraid that he already knew the answer.

"Went off with some girl to give her a ride home," came the reply. "Pretty girl, from that school of your'n."

The news he'd been dreading hit Sirius like a blow. He staggered back, holding his hands to his forehead for a moment, then running them roughly through his hair. 

"How long?" he asked, looking into Mick's dark, unreadable eyes.

"Ten, maybe fifteen, minutes ago." Mick watched Sirius shiver slightly and then begin pacing. "Bloody hell, lad! Will you tell me what's the matter?"

Sirius shook his head at first, then stopped and faced Mick directly, clenching the back of one of the metal garden chairs. He took a deep breath and swallowed hard, his knuckles whitening. 

"I hope that I'm wrong.... I can't really explain how I know, but I think Davy may be in danger."

"What? From a girl like that?"

How could he explain? That last statement of his sounded crazy, even to himself. He paced more intently, running over all the scattered facts in his mind, making absolutely sure they fit. After a minute of indecision, he said, "Wizards have... gangs, too. And there's a gang, you could call it, that doesn't like people like Davy, wizards from Muggle families. Not pure enough blood, they think. It's rubbish!" Sirius cried in frustration, shoving the chair against the nearby table with a clang and resuming his pacing. "This gang, they want to make an example of Muggle-born wizards to... to--"

"Show how strong they are?" finished Mick with an edge of anger to his voice.

"Yes, that's right," breathed Sirius gratefully. "Just now, when I went home, I found out that the girl you saw, Elise, her family is part of this gang. She wouldn't even give Davy the time of day when we both met her last week. Now I--" He shook his head at the fantastic suggestion he was about to make. "If Davy takes her home... I'm not sure it's a good idea for her family to meet him."

Mick swore softly. Peering deeply into Sirius' eyes, he asked, "Yer sure about this?"

Sirius nodded, an icy heaviness seizing him as if he'd been plunged into arctic waters. He had not been entirely sure when he arrived, but somehow in explaining it, he convinced himself of the real danger.

"I have to go after him," Sirius resolved, making ready to leave, although not knowing what he would do exactly.

"You'll take the Black Shadow," Mick stated flatly. Moving swifter than Sirius thought possible, he scooped up a helmet lying on the ground near the motorcycle and tossed it to the boy. He hobbled over to his makeshift workbench and rummaged, producing a second helmet which he put on his own head.

"I can still hold my own in a fight, lad," he said grimly, "An' you might be needing someone to watch yer back."

~~~~

The Shadow bounced down High Street through the village center, tamer than she had been earlier. Double the normal weight of the rider and it would certainly dampen the suspension, but Sirius wondered if she sensed his concern and urgency. Mick hung off the back; his cast stuck out at an odd angle, making balance even trickier than before.

"Where you headed?" Mick shouted as they tilted precariously, circling the town common.

"Newmarket Road," Sirius yelled hoarsely over his shoulder. In truth, he had no plan. He didn't think he would get a very warm reception if he rode up to Longstoke Farm and said, "Excuse me, but are you hiding any Mudbloods here?" He still clung to a shred of hope that they would meet Davy coming toward them on the little Triumph. They pulled onto Newmarket Road and left the village behind. Long shadows fell across the road as they passed lines of trees, crowding near the edge of the pavement. His hope grew fainter with each mile they covered.

Some five miles out of the village, houses were fewer. Horse pastures and hay fields, some already mowed and stacked with bales, made up the landscape, hedges or trees marking the borders. The road began to curve and Sirius remembered that there was a little forest up ahead with ruins of some historical significance, Roman or Norman; he couldn't quite recall which in his distracted state of mind. As they came around a sharper curve, a thick stand of trees appeared on his right, a remnant of the time before hay fields. Sunlight flashed from something metallic in a ditch on that side of the road. Mick saw it, too. He put a hand heavily on Sirius' shoulder and pointed. 

With a rough jolt, he stopped the Shadow. Her brakes were much trickier with two people on board and they skidded slightly before coming to rest. Impatiently, Sirius waited while Mick awkwardly dismounted and then fairly leaped off the motorcycle himself. After he coaxed the Shadow to a safe spot at the side of the road, he joined Mick standing before what was obviously Davy's Triumph.

"Doesn't look like there was any accident," Sirius said as he took off his helmet. Mick grunted a reply.

A flash of something green--the wrong color for nature, too--caught Sirius' eye. He looked up, peering through the trees. There it came again, muted through the woods, but nevertheless familiar to him from more than one wizarding duel with Slytherins. 

"Something's going on," he began as he tossed down his helmet and took out his wand, " And there's magic involved. I'm going to have a look."

As he jumped across the ditch and slipped between the trees, Mick called, "If yer not out in five minutes, lad, I'm comin' in after you."

A path led from the road to a clearing about fifty yards into the woods, Sirius remembered, but he wanted to avoid detection for as long as possible. He tried to remain silent as he wove between tree trunks and wished desperately for James' Invisibility Cloak. The clearing came into view, as did the figure of Elise, back turned toward him, her white hair and bright clothing standing out amid the green and brown of the surroundings. What about Davy? Then, when he was almost to the edge of the clearing, he saw a body sprawled on the ground at Elise's feet. The adventure lurched further into nightmare territory.

Sirius hoped she hadn't heard him as he circled her, staying just inside the trees, so he could get a better look at Davy. She stood with her wand in hand, looking down at the motionless body. Alive or dead, Sirius could not tell. A loud snap, an obvious misstep, caused him to jump. Elise turned her head in his direction, so there was nothing for it but to step out of the trees, his heart pounding as loud as that branch he'd stepped on. She saw him and gasped once, a handful of emotions playing across her face: fear, hatred, relief, and some he couldn't grasp. Fear and relief seemed to win out as she addressed him.

"Sirius! What are you--I'm so glad to see you!" She sobbed and began to shiver, her eyes riveted on his face. "It was awful! I've never been so--"

"What happened?" Sirius kept his voice level as he stepped into the clearing. She rushed toward him, but he moved away from her, trying to get closer to Davy's inert body.

"He attacked me, that's what!" She halted and cried, a mixture of fear and indignation in her voice. "I asked him for a ride home because my cousin didn't show up to get me. After we got this far, he stopped. Said he wanted to show me something, but once we got here..." She put one hand over her face as tears flowed down her cheeks, her body wracked with sobs. But she didn't let go of her wand in the other hand, Sirius noticed.

"Is he okay?" Sirius moved closer to Davy, noticing a green tinge to his skin. The boy's eyes were half-closed and his jaw hung open slackly. He looked neither dead nor alive. Was he breathing? Sirius' mind raced through the catalog of spells he knew which could produce this effect. 

"Please, Sirius," she pleaded in tearful gasps, "take me away from here!"

"What did you do to him?" Sirius asked, anger creeping into his voice as he inched closer to Davy. He stared hard at the body for a moment and detected a faint movement of the chest, a glimmer of hope that he wasn't too late. Elise continued to back away from him. They stood about six feet apart from one another with Davy's body in the middle. He looked up to see a quick movement as she raised her wand.

"_Expelliarmis!_" shouted Sirius and her wand flew from her hand. He reached up and plucked it out of the air. At first, she looked surprised, then enraged.

"Why don't you believe me?" she cried with an attempt to force a pleading tone back into her voice.

"I think I'd like to hear Davy's side of the story first."

"But, Sirius, he's just a--a Muggle-born," Elise pleaded with more conviction this time. "You and I are purebloods. There are some things that--"

"Save it for someone else," Sirius interrupted curtly. He felt angry and foolish at having been taken in by her tears and obvious lies. 

"Mudlover!" she spat angrily. Her face, an ever-changing canvas of emotions, brimmed with hatred and disgust. "That's what we call people like you, people who help those filthy little--"

"That's enough!" he raged back at her. Then, trying to find a place of some calm, he said, "I know about your family, Elise. But why? Why Davy? He's no threat to anyone. He means nothing to you. You didn't even recognize him, until I pointed it out to you." She wrapped her arms around her chest and rocked on her heels slightly, regarding him more coldly than before, all tears banished.

"My family!" She laughed cynically. "You don't know about my family. Not the half of it."

"I know you're related to the Malfoys."

"I _am_ a Malfoy, whatever my last name might be. Didn't get into Slytherin, though. Oooh, that made them furious. I thought my cousin Lucius was going to kill me right on the spot when the Sorting Hat put me in Ravenclaw. But after he graduated, no one at school remembered I was a Malfoy. Just sweet little Elise from Ravenclaw. It was actually quite useful. I convinced them that it could help their cause, and they stopped being so angry with me."

"What do you mean useful?" Sirius was confused and horrified by her sudden change of personality.

"Sweet little Elise can find out lots of interesting things," she crooned. "Boys love to talk to me, you know. It's so easy when all they want to do is kiss me. Ha! Sometimes I make them beg. Then they tell me all sorts of things about their families, about who they're loyal to, for instance. My uncle--even Lucius is afraid of him--has been very pleased with some of the stuff I've turned up and I've been rewarded for it, too."

At that moment, Davy moaned and his eyes opened wider, although he remained insensible. Sirius made the mistake of looking down at him for an instant. With a wild scream, Elise dived at him, raking his face with her fingernails and taking both wands. Stunned, Sirius tried to grab her, but she squirmed away from him, scrambling over Davy. She stood facing him once again with Davy's limp body between them, this time with a wand pointed at his chest. She casually tossed his wand over her shoulder. He didn't even hear it land.

"Now, mudlover," she gloated triumphantly, "I've got to finish this and get home before I'm in worse trouble. I guess I'll start with you."

Something about the look on her face convinced Sirius that this was no idle threat. He took a wild stab, just to keep her talking while he thought furiously about a way out. 

"Why did you leave school before the end of term, then, if you're so useful?" he taunted.

"I didn't leave, I was expelled," she said bitterly. "There's a certain amount of sneaking around involved in all this. I got caught one too many times and with something that I--I shouldn't have had. Oh, I was punished at home for it, let me tell you. Sent out here for the summer with Lucius as my watchdog."

Sirius thought suddenly that he could have seen her at school on the Marauder's Map, if he'd ever cared to look her up. He could have found out whom she was sneaking around with.

"Dreadfully boring out here. The family's so busy with all their little Mudblood schemes," she continued. "I wanted to have a go at you, after I saw you in the village, to find out all about what your father in the Ministry was doing. That would have been so, so easy, but Lucius thought it was too dangerous. He got very angry with me for even talking to you. I was punished for that as well."

"And your family? They sent you after Davy?" Sirius could scarcely believe he had come to this point, able to ask such a question in a rational manner. An hour ago he would have thought all this was a sick fantasy. 

"Hardly," she snorted. "I'm still being punished for flirting with you. But today everyone was busy with some new plot and hardly noticed me. I had to get out of that dreadful house! When I saw your little Mudblood friend in the village, I hatched my own little plot. I might get back in their good graces at home, you see, if I could deliver this to them." She kicked Davy with the toe of her boot so that he groaned and rolled over. Then she slowly stepped backward, still eyeing Sirius warily.

Sirius thought he heard voices out on the road. Mick's voice, perhaps, and others. He talked louder, hoping she wouldn't hear.

"You think you can kill us?"

"Of course, I can. I've learned quite a lot from Cousin Lucius, more than he realizes."

The sound of a motorcycle engine starting came through the trees. Elise paused. She had heard it, too. The trouble was, Sirius didn't know what it meant.

"But I'm not going to kill you, Sirius. Oh, no. I'd get in too much trouble." She laughed cruelly. "Only the Mudblood. I'll just knock you out with a Sleep Spell and then use a Memory Charm on you. You won't remember a thing. Maybe I'll even let you kiss me one day."

Sirius began to shake, uncontrollably. If she did what she promised, Davy would be dead and he would never know that he could have prevented it, never know that he was responsible for that death. Being alive and not knowing was somehow much worse than death. The thought galvanized him to action. 

As she leveled her wand at him, he did the only thing he could think of. He crouched down and, as she backed up in surprise, he performed the Animagus charm. Padfoot gave a fierce growl and leaped at her. She still had time to curse him, but the spell did not strike him full on. He howled, blinded and numb, and fell to the ground beside Davy. As he struggled to rise, he noticed two things in rapid succession: he had hands, which meant that her curse had somehow knocked him back to human, and the sound of the motorcycle was getting louder. She didn't seem to notice, so intent was she on preparing a spell aimed at Davy. 

As she raised her wand to begin, the Shadow burst into the clearing with Mick astride it, aiming directly at them. Sirius marshaled all his strength and threw himself in front of Davy. Everybody seemed to be yelling at once as a supernova of green light exploded inside and outside his head, and he remembered no more.

_End of Part 2_

_Revised 5 March 2004: More endless tinkering to improve the product..._

_~ CLS_


	3. The Sum of the Parts

**BLACK SHADOW**

_Part 3: The Sum of the Parts_

Sirius could see before he could hear. For several days, he watched the silent comings and goings of the hospital staff. At least he presumed he was in hospital. He lay in a white cocoon: white sheets, white curtains drawn around his bed. The silence reminded him of the utter stillness in a wood after a heavy snowfall in which the thick snow sucks up any and all sounds.

Nurses and Healers, all wearing the particular mint green color of their profession, came and did things. He liked best the small bird-like witch who brought his food. She was not much older than him and acted grave and businesslike when other staff were around, but sometimes when they were alone, she smiled and then she was very pretty. Sirius found he could make her smile if he tried hard enough. He made silly faces when she fed him--he still could not speak--and dropped his silverware seven, eight, nine times in a row just to see if she would keep picking it up. She smiled her sly smile each time she picked it up. But, the next meal she made him eat with his fingers. He enjoyed that, too.

An older woman with unruly gray hair, never completely tame, must have been the Healer assigned to him. She took his pulse and brought strange instruments that she placed on his head or chest, consulting them with intense concentration. A few times he glimpsed her just outside the white curtains talking with his father. He saw the pain and concern in his father's dark eyes and wondered how badly he'd been injured.

On perhaps the third day--he couldn't be sure of time--his hearing came back in fits and starts. One minute he was deaf and the next, his sheets roared at him when he made the slightest movement. He realized that he must be in a city because sometimes, when his hearing cooperated, he could hear distant traffic noises. Was it London, where his father said they sent wizards who'd suffered very bad curses? His voice came back, too, a creaking splutter at first, but soon he was able to talk reasonably well, particularly with his favorite nurse whose name (as he found out) was Charlotte. As his hearing returned, he discovered that Davy was in the bed next to him, although he had not yet regained consciousness. A bad curse seemed to linger on him and many wizards discussed Davy's condition in hushed voices that Sirius couldn't always make out.

All the while, Sirius thought about how he'd managed to end up in hospital. His memory returned with his hearing, bits of it flying into his head like puzzle pieces tossed about in a tornado. By the third or fourth day, he could replay most of that terrible scene with Elise in his mind, but the end still remained a painful mystery, a searing flash of green that made his head hurt whenever he tried to think about it.

On the fourth day, Davy began to come around. There was a flurry of activity in the morning, nurses fussing over him, but by afternoon things had quieted down. At lunch, Sirius asked Charlotte if he could have his curtains open to relieve the boredom of staring at nothing but the endless, suffocating whiteness. She scurried away to check with someone and returned to fling open the doors of his prison. Of course, he was still a prisoner. He soon discovered that the room had two more beds in addition to his and Davy's, both empty, and a guard at the door. At least he could look through the open door and glimpse a few other colors besides white and mint green.

After lunch, when no one was about, Sirius tried getting out of bed. He felt shaky but his legs could hold his weight, progress indeed. Davy's bed, with the hated white curtains drawn around it, was next to his. When he heard stirring sounds inside, his curiosity drove him to take a few steps and to peek inside the curtains. Davy tossed restlessly, not noticing him at first. He looked pale, washed out, like a shirt hung out in the bright sun for too long. I probably don't look much better, Sirius thought. Davy noticed his visitor and his face twitched with a puzzled expression.

"S-s-sirius," he stammered. Davy seemed to have a bad stutter as a residual of the curse. "What are you d-d-doing here?" He shook his head in frustration as the words stuck on his tongue.

"Ready for a change of scenery?" Sirius grinned at him. "I got sick of these blasted curtains days ago. There's not much to see outside, but it's not all white."

Davy only nodded solemnly. Sirius opened the curtains most of the way and then sat down on the edge of the bed.

"Ta-da," he chuckled. "How are you feeling? I just got my hearing back yesterday. It was pretty weird for a while there. If I'm deaf, I thought, at least I won't be able to hear Professor Binns' boring lectures any more. That was something."

Davy smiled, then his face turned grave again. "Wh-where are we?"

"A hospital in London, I think. We've been here for at least four days that I remember. I can't get anyone to tell me anything for sure. When I've tried asking, they all clam up and say that I need to recover first. My father's been here some, but I haven't seen him since yesterday. You've been out for most of it. How do you feel?"

"C-c-can't t-t-talk well..." Davy shrugged and seemed confused.

"You'll get over it," Sirius replied, trying to sound cheerful. "I couldn't talk until yesterday and look at me now. " He grinned and Davy managed a weak imitation. The smile faded quickly, though, as Davy looked down into his lap, nervously twisting the edge of his bed sheet.

"How- Why are you- D-d-did I -" Davy gave Sirius a furtive look of terror that showed he remembered something, but he ducked his head swiftly, wringing the sheet into long, ropy lengths. Sirius sighed inwardly, not eager to continue. Perhaps the less that Davy remembered, the better off he would be.

"How much do you remember?" Sirius asked, reluctant and curious at the same time. Davy didn't speak again for many minutes, but his thin body trembled beneath the white hospital gown as if he were reliving parts of it. Finally, he began talking in a low, dull voice. Sirius inched closer on the bed to make out his words.

"After you went home, I was c-c-cleaning up out b-b-back and she showed up. Wanted a ride home. She was really n-n-nice and everything. So we g-g-got on my bike. Along the N-n-newmarket Road, b-b-by the Roman f-f-fort, she said to stop. Her skirt was c-c-caught, she said. Then she ran up the p-p-path. T-t-to see what was there. I f-f-followed her to that p-p-place where the ruins are. We t-t-talked for a while and she asked d-d-did I want to k-k-kiss her."

"Well, of course you would," Sirius snapped, then added dryly, "She has that effect, I've noticed. I even wanted to kiss her once. What an idiot I was!" 

Davy seemed somewhat relieved and continued, but his voice became more agitated as he spoke. "I d-d-did. K-k-kiss her, I mean. B-b-but then she screamed at me, accused me of- and I... looked down and... her shirt was t-t-torn and she was yelling. Said that I t-t-tried to- B-b-but I d-d-didn't ...." Davy pleaded with Sirius, looking into his eyes for any reassurance. "I would n-n-never...." 

Breaking away suddenly, he grabbed large handfuls of the sheet, pulling it up as if to hide his face. His whole body shook, silently at first and then with great shuddering sobs which seemed too large for his slight build. Sirius found himself shaking, too, although he tried to hide it. What Elise had done to him was bad enough--he couldn't think about their little scene together without becoming angry--but Davy... Davy had been completely unable to protect himself and was nothing to her except a trophy, a dead bird that the cat brings home. And like a cat, she toyed with Davy before moving in for the kill. 

"There's nothing wrong with you, Davy!" he cried, his words rushing out in a torrent. "She tricked you! She doesn't care about you. Her family hates Muggle-born wizards. They're in Lord Voldemort's camp. My dad says they've been attacking wizards and...."

"She c-c-called me--" Davy gasped, his wide eyes staring into some terrifying place in memory, his hands finally as still as death. He seemed unable to hear Sirius. "N-n-names. All sorts of things. She said I was-- "

"Stop!" Sirius found himself nearly shouting, wanting to grab Davy and make him stop tormenting himself. "She called me names, too. And she was going to--" But he broke off, unable to tell Davy the fate which had awaited them at Elise's hands. Some things were better left unknown. Sirius found that he was leaning forward, practically ready to leap at Davy, with his fists balled into the sheets. He took a deep breath and forced himself to sit back, to assume a calmness he didn't really feel.

"Anyway, here we are, cursed but alive. Not bad, all things considered." He forced a lighter tone. Davy looked at him curiously, a shipwrecked sailor trying to decide whether to leap from flotsam to a lifeboat. 

"How did you get mixed up in this?" Davy asked slowly and carefully. 

Sirius frowned, unsure of where to start and how much to tell. "When I got home that day, I found out that Elise was a--a Malfoy." Davy squirmed uncomfortably, perhaps at the sound of her name. "What's more, they've been attacking Muggle-born wizards. At least, that's what my father thinks. Only I don't know if he has enough evidence to prove it. I came back to the garage to find you, to warn you not to talk to her again." Because I told her you were Muggle-born in the first place, he reminded himself. "Mick and I took the Shadow and went looking for you. When we found your bike, I saw a flash of green in the woods. Must have been her cursing you. Then, I found her--you were knocked out--and we... fought, only she managed to curse me." His hand drifted to his cheek, recalling how she scratched his face, but no trace of it remained. He couldn't bring himself to say that he'd been disarmed by a girl. "I don't remember much more."

Davy took all this in with wide eyes. Sirius couldn't tell if he believed him or not. It was a pretty fantastic tale, after all. 

"Uncle Mick... was there?" Davy said at last.

"Yeah. He was waiting, out on the road. Just before I--one of the last things I remember is hearing the Black Shadow start up, but I don't know what happened after that." He shook his head, grimacing at the memory. "I've tried asking them here, but they won't tell me anything." Surely Mick was all right, he thought. But, why wouldn't someone tell him then?

"What do you suppose happened to..." Davy asked, gazing into his lap and taking up the twisted bed sheet sculpture once again. He did not have to finish the sentence. Sirius knew who he meant but could only shake his head with frustration and a trace of anger.

"They won't tell me that either. In fact, they get these funny looks if I ask about her. Weird. And I'm not sure I like it."

Thinking of Elise again sent Davy into renewed distress. Uncontrollable tremors returned to torment him and he wrung the edge of the sheet yet again.

"Hey! It's over!" Sirius responded quickly, not raising his voice this time but speaking urgently. "We'll be back at school soon and everything will be-"

"N-n-no!" Davy shouted in anguish, his stutter returning with a vengeance. "I c-c-can't- I d-d-don-t ever want t-t-to...." He put his hands up, cradling his head as if to keep it from coming off entirely. 

"Of course you'll be back at school soon." Sirius tried to sound reasonable.

"Easy for you. You're b-b-braver than... and you're not a M-m-mudblood. I hear them saying those things at school, the same things th-th-that _she _said. I t-t-try not listen... I c-c-can't go b-b-back." Davy would not meet his eyes and Sirius fumed incoherently for a moment. 

"But you _have_ to go back," he said finally. "Don't you get it? If you don't go back, then they win! All those Slytherins and her family and the lot. If you don't stand up to them, they'll just figure they can do this to more people." Sirius pounded on the bed with clenched fists. Davy looked up at him momentarily.

"G-g-go away!" he cried. He turned away from Sirius, his voice fading as he spoke, and pulled the sheet over his hunched shoulders with terrified resolve. "J-j-just l-l-leave me alone."

Sirius stared at Davy's back and then down at his hands, clenching and unclenching his fists.

"Well, Sirius. I see you've found your voice." Startled, he turned and saw his father leaning against the door frame, arms folded, a peculiar smile on his lips. How long had he been standing there?

Aeneas Black straightened up and sauntered easily into the room. Sirius noticed that he was freshly shaven and looked as if he had slept, a decided improvement over the last two weeks. He sat down on the corner of Sirius' bed with his back to the door. 

"Dad," was all Sirius managed to croak after a moment. Davy turned and stammered a weak greeting.

"Your mother sends her love, Sirius," his father said casually. Only his sharp eyes, assessing both boys' conditions, gave any hint of concern. "How are you boys feeling? Well enough for visitors? There's someone from the Ministry who wants to see you. And I've brought your mother down from the village, Davy." He hesitated, watching Davy brighten up, then continued, "She'll be here in a bit. She's just down the corridor-"

"What is the meaning of this?" came an irritated voice from outside the door. "Your orders are to keep visitors out." The voice belonged to a small man in a mauve suit and bowler hat who finished scolding the guard and bustled into the room, a pin-striped cloak over one arm and a briefcase in the other. "This room is off-limits! Please leave immediately," he clucked importantly.

Sirius saw a momentary look of irritation cross his father's face, but it vanished as he turned to the man and said, "Cornelius, may I not visit my own son?"

"Oh. Oh, yes. Didn't know it was you, Black," replied the man quickly, shutting the door with a precise click. He seemed to be in his mid-thirties with thinning black hair plastered horizontally across his forehead, in anticipation of a balding future. 

"Sirius, Davy, this is Mr. Fudge from the Department of Magical Catastrophes. He wants to ask you some questions," he explained evenly, although Sirius detected a hint of displeasure in his voice. Fudge took off his hat and laid it, along with his cloak and briefcase, on Sirius' bed. His brilliant yellow tie put Sirius in mind of a chimpanzee with a banana pressed to its chest.

"Quite right," bustled Fudge as he shuffled papers out of his briefcase. "Terribly shocking business, what? The Ministry wants to get it cleared up as quickly as possible, of course. I'll need a statement from you boys for the report."

Fudge finally located a parchment scroll that he unrolled and began reviewing, making little comments to himself while ignoring the others. "Now, then. Yes. Here it is." He cleared his throat and continued, "On the evening of 26 July an attack on Miss Elise de Mornay took place at the-"

"Hey!" Sirius interrupted. "That's not right! She attacked us! Davy first, then me."

Fudge looked over the edge of the parchment at Sirius and frowned. "Indeed? Hmmmm." He consulted his scroll again. "I understand that you are recovering from a very bad curse, young man. Are you certain that your memory is accurate? We have information concerning the use of magic in the, er, alleged attack. I will remind you that the use of magic by underage wizards is a serious and troubling business...." He let the words hang in the air so that even Sirius in his anger saw how much trouble he could get into.

"I didn't use any spells! My wand got...."

"Cornelius," his father interjected calmly, although with an edge of irritation, "I believe that you also have a report from Florian Dingwell and myself. As first to arrive on the scene, naturally, we looked for whatever evidence we could find. If you'll recall from our report, Davy here did not have a wand and Sirius' wand was found in a tree some twenty feet away. Miss de Mornay was holding her wand when we found her. Is that not some indication of the use of magic on her part?"

"Yeah," Sirius said excitedly, "and Mick saw it, too. When we first got there. He saw the flash from the woods."

"Let me see," Fudge muttered to himself as he went to his briefcase and sifted through papers. Sirius exchanged glances with Davy, who was now twisting his bed sheet into a nearly complete replica of a suspension bridge, and with his father, who had a dark scowl on his face, hidden from Fudge. The little man bustled back to stand between the two beds, wrestling with an untidy stack of papers. 

"So many reports and with a Muggle involved, it will double the usual amount of paperwork," he continued, clearly expecting their sympathy. "Yes, yes. We must get this cleared up and establish the facts, particularly what spells were involved. Miss de Mornay was injured in this course of this, er, incident. She continues to suffer serious after-effects, according to her family, and has not recovered her memory."

"How convenient," interjected Sirius sarcastically. His father gave him an exasperated look as if to remind him that this was not being terribly helpful. "Look. It's simple," he continued. "She asked Davy for a ride home from the village, she lured him into the woods, then she cursed him."

"And is this correct, Mr. Hollerith?" Fudge frowned as he advanced toward Davy's bed with his bunch of papers before him like a shield. Davy nervously pulled the sheets about himself and nodded wordlessly. "And you, young Mr. Black, just happened to be in the neighborhood in the company of a Muggle... a Mr. Michael McKutcheon?"

Sirius felt momentarily confused, having forgotten that Mick might have a real name. Angrily he responded, "No. We went looking for Davy because--" He broke off, suddenly realizing that he ought to pick his words carefully. In fact, a few well-chosen lies might be called for. His father regarded him with considerable interest as he fumbled for what to say next.

"Because he was late for supper... and we were worried that his bike might have broken down. It's not that reliable. Right, Davy?" Again, Davy nodded without speaking, his eyes growing even wider still, if that were possible.

"Ahem," Fudge continued, clearing his throat yet again. "That is your story, yes. There does seem to be certain, er, evidence for the use of magic on the part of Miss de Mornay." He gave a furtive acknowledgment to Aeneas. "But, I can see no motivation for Miss de Mornay to attack you two boys, as you claim. And, well, sometimes boys such as yourselves can be perhaps a bit too... rambunctious toward members of the opposite sex. Yes? Was she perhaps defending herself...."

Davy gave a strangled gasp and began shaking, on the verge of tears. Sirius tried to hold himself in check, but he couldn't take it any longer. "That's complete dragon dung! She attacked Davy! She didn't like the fact that he's Muggle-born. Her whole family's like that." He looked to his father for support, but Aeneas shook his head.

"Some of us suspect," he said carefully as Fudge pursed his lips and looked decidedly uncomfortable, "that something might have been about to happen, something having to do with the Malfoys, but with all the alarm bells you set off, we didn't have a chance to check it out. As it was, we arrived there on Newmarket Road just a little too late."

"But she _did_ attack Davy!" Sirius cried in frustration as Fudge made little disbelieving tut-tut noises. "Look. She's not so innocent. She was expelled from Hogwarts last year. Did her family tell you that? Did they tell you why?"

Fudge consulted his papers again, relieved to escape Sirius' fuming glare. "Her uncle did say that she had a, er, nervous condition which necessitated a rest-cure during the spring. Be that as it may," he cleared his throat pointedly, "let us return to determining the facts of this incident."

Voices could be heard just outside the door, growing strident. Fudge spoke over the noise, seeming doubly peeved, "Whenever there are Muggles involved, we must document everything carefully, of course." Two women were shouting something at the guard, Sirius realized. Fudge attempted to continue," And when a Muggle is--"

All of a sudden, complete pandemonium broke out. As the guard cracked open the door and attempted to interrupt politely, a booming voice from outside yelled "He's my son!" causing Fudge to scatter his untidy bundle of papers all over the floor and Davy to sit up excitedly stuttering "M-m-mum!" Then the door opened, teetering like a see-saw, as the guard continued to argue with two women, Davy's mother and the Healer with the wild gray hair. It seemed that the guard had taken his scolding from Fudge to heart and was determined to prevent anyone's entering. 

"Here, now," the guard pleaded. "You can't go in just yet."

"Listen, here," barked Mrs. Hollerith, who resembled her brother Mick in size and in voice, "this is a hospital, innit? Well, I never been in a hospital where a mother couldn't visit her own son!"

"There's no reason--" piped up the Healer in a softer voice, soon drowned out. She attempted to lend support to Davy's mother, but no-one was destined to hear it. Fudge abandoned his mess of papers and bustled to the door, attempting to shoo the women out into the hall with his most officious manner.

"Madam," he pronounced crisply, "We are conducting an investigation. If you'll just wait-"

"I don't care what yer doin'," barked Mrs. Hollerith, "I come to see my family! I seen my brother and he's none too well in this funny hospital. Now I want to see my son!"

While Fudge continued to argue, inching backward as Mrs. Hollerith slowly forced the door open, Sirius and Davy exchanged worried glances. 

"Dad," Sirius asked urgently as the argument raged, "Is Mick here, too?" His father nodded solemnly. "Why didn't you tell us?" 

"Sirius," began Aeneas with a pained expression on his face, "I'm sorry. I didn't have time to-"

"He's okay, isn't he? I mean, he's recovering like we are, right?" 

Something about the hard look on his father's face, greeting his own crumbling expression of hope, made Sirius fear the worst. The answer, however, was interrupted by the door swinging open and slamming loudly into the wall as Davy's mother made her entrance. She barreled into the room wearing her Sunday-best dress and swinging a large black handbag, an angry mother bear looking for her cub, trailed by Fudge, the Healer, and the guard. Sirius got up as quickly as he could from his seat on Davy's bed at the approach of Mrs. Hollerith.

"He rode his motorcycle into the clearing," his father told him gravely as Fudge spluttered in the background, "right into the path of the curse. He wasn't killed instantly because the motorcycle seems to have absorbed... and even reflected some of it back, although I've never seen anything like it." Sirius sat down slowly on his own bed, not taking his eyes from his father's face while Davy's mother noisily occupied half of the next bed with the Healer looking on nervously.

"The young lady," continued Aeneas in measured tones out of place with the chaos around them, "got some of her own curse back, it seems. The motorcycle is in pretty sad shape, too. Overall, I'd say that some combination of the motorcycle and Davy's uncle saved both your lives."

Sirius sat stunned for a moment, heedless of the other dramas taking place in the room: Mrs. Hollerith crying over Davy and Fudge fussing at the guard to pick up the scattered papers. He stood suddenly, forcing his weak and shaking legs toward the open door. His father did not try to stop him, nor did the others seem to notice. 

Once outside, Sirius experienced a moment's confusion at the many identical doors confronting him along the corridor. Then, he noticed the only other door with a guard next to it and headed in that direction. 

"What's going on here?" asked the other guard as Sirius approached. He probably had been watching most of the little scene with Davy's mother back there. Sirius did not answer but doggedly made for the door being guarded.

"This room is--" began the guard, but he broke off, looking beyond Sirius. His father had followed and nodded to the guard to let him pass, allowing Sirius to enter alone.

The room, another stark white landscape, had a single chair and one bed which seemed distant yet enormous, dwarfing the man wreathed in its tangled sheets. Mick lay on the bed, a mottled greenish-yellow cast to his face. A remnant of the curse, Sirius guessed. He was beginning to understand the horror that sometimes stole across his father's face in odd, private moments. 

"I been waitin' for you to show up, " Mick wheezed with difficulty. "They tol' me you was not put right yet, but I knew you'd come." Mick's eyes tracked the boy's movements as he drew near the bed and sat down, pulling the chair as close as he could.

"Are they treating you okay?" Sirius asked.

"Well, they fixed me leg, lad. Don't have that bloody cast no more," grinned Mick weakly, "but I reckon there's more they can't mend."

"No," Sirius said softly, then more forcefully, "they can-- they have to heal you."

"I hear them wizard doctors talking..." Mick waved a hand and let it fall on the sheet with a soft thud, almost a sigh, the only sound in the room. "They fixed you up...and Davy, too, I hear tell."

"Davy's fine, just fine," breathed Sirius, eager to have something positive to say. "He's going to be fine and so are--"

"How's the beast then?" Mick interrupted, a note of urgency in his hoarse voice.

"My Dad says she's a mess." He shook his head and then smiled weakly. "I'm sure you can fix her. Maybe I can help."

"Nothin' would please me more, Sirius, lad. Nothin' in all the world." Mick's voice trailed off as he took a huge breath. For some time, merely breathing occupied him, as if this were burden enough. Each breath seemed to carry him farther away from the hospital room and from Sirius. City sounds filtered through the windows and tightly drawn curtains. Muggle sounds: cars, buses, ambulances, and motorcycles, too. An entire city of Muggles, millions of them, surged outside.

"Mick," he began, the words tumbling out as he tried desperately to fill the chasm yawning between them. "after we get the Black Shadow fixed... I've been thinking that I could do an enchantment that would--I mean, I could make her fly, really fly with magic." Mick looked at him with interest, although only his eyes moved in response. "I've made smaller things fly, never anything so large, but I--"

With great effort, Mick reached out and grasped his arm, stopping the boy's babble. His grip was surprisingly strong.

"Listen to me, lad," he rasped, his words coming to Sirius from far away. "I want you to have her, that beast of mine. I told Betty so, and I'm tellin' you now." He stopped, exhausted by so much talking.

"No," Sirius protested, staring intently into Mick's dark eyes glittering like uncut gems in his pallid face.

"I can't very well give the bloody thing to Davy," he coughed weakly, attempting a laugh. "She'd kill him within a week." Sirius tried to laugh, too, but failed. Mick drew a huge, rattling breath, still clasping Sirius' arm. His eyes roamed the room, searching for something, but he could no longer see the boy.

"I'd like to see that beast fly..." he murmured, so softly that Sirius could barely make out the words. Then, his fingers relaxed, strength and will flowing out of them like the ebbing of the tide. Without understanding how or why, Sirius knew he was gone. He sat motionless for a minute or two, as if any movement would force him to acknowledge what had taken place.

Suddenly there was sound and movement from the door as the Healer entered the room with a gasp. Sirius did not look up, but heard his father's voice calling her from the door, telling her to wait. Instead, she came swiftly to the bed, taking the other hand of her patient to search for a pulse. Leaping up, Sirius knocked her aside roughly.

"No!" he raged. "Get away! He doesn't need your help anymore."

She retreated for the door rather than argue with what was in his eyes. Sirius stood looking down at the bed, dizzy from standing so suddenly and teetering unsteadily. Mick looked even smaller now, the white linens and pillows about to swallow him, sending him away across a great gulf that Sirius could not bridge. Poised on the edge of that terrifying chasm, Sirius wanted to follow... if only he had the strength to drag Mick back. He stopped seeing else in the room and blindly reached his hands out--the blackness, the void, called to him. He fell to his knees next to the bed and gripped Mick's arm, bowing his head and thinking desperately: if only I had the strength.

"You can't bring him back," came the quiet voice of his father from the door, sounding a universe away.

Sirius looked up with empty eyes, only partly in the world of the living. Why had he been called back when he was so close?

"He's gone," his father said with a muted urgency which sounded distant and alien, "and we need you here."

Sirius pulled away from the bed, withdrawing his arms and crouching on the floor. He trembled violently and both his father and the Healer moved toward him in concern. All of a sudden, he sprang up. Howling with rage and frustration, he attacked his father, pummeling him with clenched fists and raving incoherently. But he was weak and his father, still the larger man, seized his arms and pinned them to his sides. Sirius struggled, ever fainter. Finally, he was spent and could only stand shivering, kept from collapsing by his father's firm grip.

"Sirius, stay with us," he whispered. "We need you here."

Blindly, Sirius took a step forward and fell into his father's enfolding arms. Wordlessly he shook, but could not bring himself to cry.

~~~~

Plink. Plink. Plinkety. Plink. Sirius heard the sound of metal bouncing on metal as he walked along the side of the garage toward the back. The last time he had trodden this path he'd been a dog, and he had the strong urge to do that now, to let Padfoot run free, far away from the village and from Hollerith's Garage. But he continued walking. It was probably going to rain soon anyway.

Crash. The sound of many bits of metal clattering against the ground and each other came to him as he rounded the corner. There was Davy standing on the grass amid a sea of small parts: bolts, nuts, washers, other things Sirius didn't know. Several half-filled cardboard boxes were arrayed on the ground, including the one that had just spilled its contents at Davy's feet. The younger boy gazed forlornly at the mess around him. His expression did not change when he looked up and noticed Sirius.

"Hey, Davy. I heard you were home," he called. When he got no reply, he continued, "I got home the day before yesterday and... my mother's back, so at least we don't have to eat my cooking any more."

Davy stared at him with glum incomprehension for another minute, then looked down at his feet. "Funeral's t-t-tomorrow." His stutter still hadn't worn off completely.

"Yeah," Sirius replied quietly. Neither of them spoke for a time until Sirius recollected himself and addressed the metallic jetsam on the lawn, "What're you doing with this junk?"

"My dad wants me to clean all this up." He waved a hand at the rough work area behind him consisting of a plank table and various half-finished motorcycle projects. "He never liked the mess back here."

Sirius knelt on the ground and helped to pick up parts as Davy showed him the various boxes for sorting. They worked in relative silence for a while. The clinking sound of metal against metal was all that either of them could tolerate. 

After a time, Davy sighed and said, "He wants me to get rid of my T-t-triumph, too. Of course, he'd like to blow that thing to pieces..." He nodded his head toward the pile of tarps, now covering a large motorcycle-shaped lump, too large to be the Triumph. Noticing it for the first time, Sirius rose slowly, putting his hands out as he walked toward her.

"I tried to start it, just to see if it would, you know... but nothing happened," Davy said as Sirius snatched at the tarps, struggling to free the beast. 

Sirius ran his hands from the handlebars to the metal logo and over the leather seat. The once shiny black metal was scorched, if that was the right word, and a faint iridescent sheen covered everything. As he stroked her, Sirius felt his hands tingle and the hair on his arms rise.

"Still cursed," he murmured to himself. He looked back at Davy. "My father said this might happen. She took a lot of the curse on herself. Dad says that he can show me how to break the curse, though. Runs in the family, I guess." He attempted a smile. 

"Uncle Mick wanted you to have it, her, I mean," Davy said solemnly. "Mum told me what he said."

"Yeah... he told me, too." Sirius sighed and shook his head. "Look, Davy, he was your uncle and I-"

"No. You keep her," Davy responded in a surprisingly sharp tone as he joined Sirius next to the Black Shadow. "He liked you. A lot. I could tell and... I'd probably just kill myself anyway." Both boys grinned at the thought. 

Sirius whistled softly to himself, then addressed Davy, excitement growing in his voice, "I'm sure after the curse is lifted there'll be other things wrong. You can help me fix her up."

Davy's face lit up at the thought, reminding Sirius of how he'd looked after his first ride on the Shadow. He was reminded of something else, too.

"I think," Sirius said, resolve bursting upon him, "that I might be able to enchant her and make her fly. Wouldn't that be cool?"

"Is it legal?" Davy asked hesitantly, intrigued nonetheless.

"Not exactly. I mean, I don't think so... but it _would_ be very cool. Maybe I can convince Professor Tesla that it's my term project for Muggle Studies." They both laughed at the thought.

"I don't know if I can figure out the spell on my own," Sirius pondered, "but if I can get her back to school, James and Remus can work on it, too. We should be able to do it.... Yeah. I'll have to find a way to get her up to Hogwarts, maybe stash her in the village."

He paced around the Shadow as he talked, growing more excited with each word. Davy continued to stare at the motorcycle, touching the Vincent logo with tentative fingers.

"I'd like to see that," he replied dreamily. "It'll probably be a big secret and all, but when you get it to fly, will you let me see?"

Sirius stopped his pacing and a smile stole across his face.

"You mean you'll be back at school next month?"

"Yeah," Davy said, ducking his head and talking to his feet. "You were right about- about what you said. And I think that Uncle Mick-- Well, he never ran away from anything and I don't reckon I should either."

"Great!" Sirius grinned the largest grin he could remember in a long while.

Davy's face seemed happy, too, but then clouded over as he said, "Oh. But do you think we'll be allowed to go back? The way that Mr. Fudge talked, I thought we were going to be expelled or something."

"Don't worry," Sirius laughed. "I think my father's finally got them convinced, although it took some work." He sighed. "We're not supposed to talk about any of it, though. Too bad... a few of my friends would find this whole thing mighty interesting."

Thinking about the return to Hogwarts made Sirius wonder if Elise de Mornay would be back at school. He hoped, for Davy's sake, that her memory was really gone and that her family would send her away on a long, long rest-cure. Shaking his head to clear those thoughts, he resumed his animated pacing. 

"And if any Slytherins or anyone else, for that matter, bother you, I'll fix them," he winked at Davy. "No, better yet, I'll teach you a few things that might come in handy. Want to know how to make someone's clothes vanish and reappear three feet away? That's a good one! And then there's the usual slime and muck charms, but you probably know those...."

Davy stared at him gratefully, as if glimpsing a door into an alien world. "I would like that," he replied with a grateful smile.

"Sure," Sirius countered with a wave of his hand. "Now, let's get started on the Shadow. There's lots to do. I can't believe there's only four weeks left until school starts!"

_The End_

_Sirius Black had a large, black flying motorcycle that he loved. That's all we find out from JKR on the subject. It got me thinking…_

_Often the things we love are those for which we pay most dearly. What did it cost Sirius to get the motorcycle? That's how this story was conceived. In the writing of it, I got lots of great feedback and reviews. Many, many thanks to all reviewers, particularly those who ask hard (and interesting) questions !!! Keep 'em coming!_

_Okay, anyone want to see a sequel in which Sirius and his friends at Hogwarts make the Shadow fly? Should Elise come back into it? Let me know what you think…_

_Revised 5 March 2004._

_- CLS _


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